


Junction

by Peskychloe



Series: Spinal Injury AU [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Armpit Sex, Bagpiping, Disabled Sex, Established Relationship, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, POV First Person, bossy ennoshita, medical discussion, paralysed ennoshita, spinal injury au, thats an actual thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14488260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peskychloe/pseuds/Peskychloe
Summary: "I collected my thoughts for a moment; I couldn't feel it, but he could, and I'm not sure why this was a revelation when we already knew those facts. I guess it was because he was thinking about the rest of my body in that way, not only the obvious things."Further sexual misadventures from these two dorks.





	Junction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [K8ecrowley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/K8ecrowley/gifts).



> This was written as a chapter for Quad's guide, but it developed into a one shot of its own. Katie referred to it as my magnum opus, and I'm quite happy about that.
> 
> There's a lot of sex discussion in this, some bowel discussion (nothing graphic) and some fluffy domesticity, as well as a reappearance of the sex shelf.
> 
> Could work as a one-shot, as long as you know Ennoshita is paralysed from the neck down and in a long term, long distance relationship with Terushima.

When I began writing this, I didn't expect it to focus so much on Yuuji. Which is stupid really, when you think about it, because in the hospital they teach you so many, many things, but they don't really touch on sexuality. Well, not unless someone catches you in a toilet.

I was told that if I'd broken my neck fifty years ago, maybe less, I wouldn't even have lived. Stoke Mandeville, where I recuperated, made huge advances in spinal injury treatment, and many more injured people survive, and improve, and live longer more fulfilling lives these days.

Even twenty years ago, if I'd broken my neck back then, I think it might have been awkward finding out about sex; but now, when porn is freely available, gender is becoming as fluid as sexuality itself, and pegging is the 'next big thing' for heterosexual couples – well, there's plenty of ideas out there.

Sometimes I feel ashamed that for me living a fulfilling life means good sex with my boyfriend, but then I remember I'm only twenty years old, at the peak of my sexuality, and he's the hottest fucking thing on two legs, and I simply get on with it. There are years ahead of me where pleasuring him isn't the most important thing in my life.

Then again, it isn't really the most important thing  _ now _ , or we wouldn't be coping with living apart as well as we are. There have been hiccups, but we're still very much together, and it's the end of the nine months which felt like it would never end. 

So, in my continuing research into inventive love-making (even I cringed writing that), I considered ways in which I might utilise the rest of my body.

Until now, I've only been able to use my mouth, for obvious reasons. I've had it on just about every part of his body, except his feet, which he hates even the idea of. I'm not too bothered about that, I must admit, but if he'd asked, I'd have done it.

I'm not sure when the idea of frottage first struck me, but once it had, I couldn't leave it alone.

The first time Yuuji did my bowels, it was really awful; I couldn't stop thinking about how he was dealing with...that side of me, but really the most disappointing thing had been that there had been a tiny part of me that wondered if it would turn me on. I feel so wrong writing that, but I think it's important.

So, I can feel it a bit when the nurses evacuate my bowels, so I thought, perhaps, just perhaps, I would be nice when Yuuji did it. I mean, it wasn't when the nurses did it, only uncomfortable and a dull pressure among the numbness, so I'm not sure why I thought he might be different.

The simple fact was, I couldn't feel him touching my prostate and it upset me.

It wasn't only for my sake; it was for him. If we could have sex in that way, it would be a different sensation for him, and would open up new positions we could be in, where I could see his face properly, or we could kiss, perhaps.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I knew it was pointless; it was as uncomfortable as when the nurses did it, not pleasurable at all, and I didn't like him doing it.

But then, something pleasurable  _ did _ happen. When he'd finished, and cleaned me up, he stayed behind me where I was laying on the bed. I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but I could see his hand moving in my peripheral vision.

“What are you up to?” I asked him.

“Sorry, I was just...stroking your arse. I don't really see it. It's really soft and squishy.” He chuckled to himself. “I was a bit of an arse man in the past, sorry.”

“I don't mind you looking,” I said.

“Yeah, but you can't feel it.” I heard a fleshy slap as he tapped it. “Silly, really.”

“It's not silly. I like that you like it,” I spoke over my shoulder, straining to try and see him. “Come over here.”

He walked around in front of me and knelt down to my level, and as he did so, I could see he had the beginnings of an erection.

“Yuuji, that's not from the bowels, is it?” I asked, nodding towards it.

He laughed. “Of course not! It's from feeling your backside. And thinking about you. Can I pull the bed over?”

“I'm not in the mood for sex...”

“No, no! I mean, just a cuddle.”

I relented, and he dragged his bed over, clambering onto it next to me. He put an arm under me as usual, but the other one went over my hips instead of my shoulders. My hips were still uncovered, I hadn't realised due to the warm weather and being hot from having my bowels opened.

He kissed me – much more deeply than someone should kiss someone else after dealing with their shit – pulling himself into me with the arm grabbing me by the hips.

I'd said I wasn't in the mood, but damn it, he's pretty persuasive once he starts kissing me. It's that stud in his tongue; the hardness of it against me is something I can always feel, even when he goes below the line where I can still feel hands or lips. On a good day, I can feel him licking my nipples if he presses hard enough with his stud.

Today, he stayed at my mouth, but there was a fresh hunger. He groaned as he pulled me towards him again, straddling my thigh.

“Sorry,” he said into my neck as he kissed along it, “I know you said you're not in the mood, but, fuck, you feel so good today.”

“I had a bath yesterday.”

He spluttered as he laughed, grabbing my hair and crashing himself into my lips, and then guiding me onto his neck. “You're even softer than usual. God, your arse, I know you can't feel it, but it's so... _ squeezable _ .”

I looked up, slightly horrified. “Are you actually squeezing it?”

“Hmm-mm,” he murmured into my hair, starting a rhythmic grinding against me.

“Yuuji, stop a minute.” He stilled instantly. “You really like the feel of my skin?”

“Yeah. 'Course. I always have. I love feeling it against me. I mean, I know you can't feel me squeezing it, but you have a great arse, too, ya know. I can't usually see it, 'cause you're sitting on it. Got a bit excited. Do you mind?”

I collected my thoughts for a moment; I couldn't feel it, but he could, and I'm not sure why this was a revelation when we already knew those facts. I guess it was because he was thinking about the rest of my body in that way, not only the obvious things.

I enjoyed myself before when he hung my head off the bed and used me; I started to think about other parts of me being used, for his pleasure, even if I couldn't feel it.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” I said, caught up in my thoughts still, “Listen, let me think about this. I've got ideas, but I need to research it. For now why don't you, urm, sort yourself out while we kiss. Okay?”

“God, I love it when you're bossy and clinical,” he said as he took himself in hand; I kissed his throat, watching closely as he reached his climax and made the most beautiful, satisfied expression.

–

This seems as good a place as any to talk about the dynamics of our relationship.

I used to feel guilty about being, in my eyes, bossy. Having to ask people to do things all the time can be tiring, especially when you have to say 'please' or people think you're ungrateful.

I've talked before about how Yuuji doesn't usually need asking for stuff. He knows how much food I like, in what order, and can sense the changes in breathing or the small twitches I make which indicate needing help. He might be a bit of a dickhead, but he's incredibly intelligent and observant.

The one time I ask for stuff is in bed; this is partly due to him getting carried away and forgetting limitations, or sometimes it's because I want to try something out and can't manage to do it without his help. It can lead to the most polite sex ever, if I'm saying please every time, so usually I order him around. Luckily for me, he really responds to that.

I think if things were different, and if I could move as well, we'd definitely try a lot more BDSM stuff. I daydream about dominating him physically, even now, even though there's no way it'll ever happen. As it is, there'd be no point in him tying me up, because of what little movement I have, and if he tied himself up...well, you can see the problem there, I'm sure.

I didn't mean for our relationship to become one of almost sub/dom dynamics, it happened naturally. I can't help having to ask him to do stuff, and he can't help having to do it; so we might as well enjoy it.

–

After doing some research – i.e. trying to find videos online of the sex practice I wanted to know more about, and failing miserably because there aren't enough videos of people in wheelchairs having sex, and even if there are it's fetishised and usually hetero – I had a few ideas of how frottage might be achievable.

After the rimming incident, it was also becoming much easier to talk about new things with Yuuji. It's not that he's shy or not adventurous enough, he worries about doing new things because he wants me to enjoy everything as much as he does. I don't think he understands that most of my enjoyment comes from  _ him _ enjoying it.

We had a conversation about it, falteringly started by me over lunch one Monday, of all times, purely because Mum and Dad were still at work. Yuuji had stayed for a long weekend as it was a bank holiday and university was shut. I knew it was the last time I'd see him until after his exams and then he'd be home for good, so I wanted to give him something to think about. Looking back, it was possibly not a good idea, but I wasn't to know how the conversation would go.

“So, can I ask something?” I began, while he peeled a satsuma.

“Always.”

“What do you think to, urm, I'm not sure what it's called really.”

“If you narrow it down a bit, I can probably answer more easily,” he said as he frowned at the peel coming apart in small pieces in his hand.

“Well, I've seen it referred to as frottage or, urm, intercrural sex.”

Juice squirted in his eye as he clenched the fruit too hard. “Eh? What's...huh?”

“You know. Rubbing your penis...”

“Dude! I know what frotting is!” He put some satsuma in my mouth, even thought it was his, presumably to shut me up. “I thought it wasn't a good idea to rub yours. 'Cause of dysreflexia.”

“If you let me finish,” I said through a mouthful of orange, before swallowing, “Rubbing _your_ penis somewhere on _me_.”

“Why would I do _that_?”

“Why do you usually do stuff with your dick?” I snapped at him. I opened my mouth for more satsuma, because otherwise I felt like I would shout at him more. Luckily he gave me another quarter, and I calmed down.

“I know. Sorry. I meant...well you can't feel it, so why? Don't get me wrong, I've thought about it. You have...the softest, thickest thighs, it would probably feel fucking _amazing_ but...”

“Well, there's your reason, you nobhead!” Unfortunately the satsuma had all gone, and I got irritable with him. “It would feel good.”

“Yeah, for _me_. Surely it would just be like...Gah it would be like me using a fleshlight or something!”

Being likened to anything inanimate hurts. “Oh. Thanks a bunch.”

“No, no. Sorry! Leave it. This is too weird. I'm saying everything wrong. I don't want to go back to Lancaster with us mad at each other.”

And that, so I thought, was the end of that. We finished off the meal with a quick make-out session, just to be sure everything was okay, and then Kanoka arrived so he could get the train.

–

Dating Yuuji is a rollercoaster. I know that's an overused expression, but it's the only thing that compares.

I know no one thought it would last. I never thought it would start, let alone be going still, but I'm grateful it didn't end all too quickly like all the best fairground rides.

There's only been a couple of dips where I've been afraid of derailment, the rest of the time, I can see the next climb clearly before me, and I know how to lay the tracks to get there.

Most of the time, although he's doing the actual steering, I'm really in the driving seat; he goes at my pace, I tell him where to go, and between us we navigate the loops and bends, shrieking with laughter along the way.

Sometimes, not often, he turns sharply where I haven't seen a corner, somewhere I think is a dead end. I panic, as I haven't seen the rest of the tracks, and I see us spiralling into a void.

But he finds the rails. They're there, visible to him, and it's only because I'm not looking closely enough that I didn't see them. When he points it out, it's so obvious, I can't believe I didn't see it, but also so unexpected, I couldn't have imagined it anyway.

And that is how we discovered the next 'thrill section' of our ride.

–

When I saw Yuuji playing volleyball all those years ago, there are things I never thought would be happening. I never thought we'd kiss, and then I never thought we'd be dating this long, and I definitely never envisaged him begging me to marry him.

Of all the things I never saw him asking me, the strangest came about a week after that conversation.

We were studying together with video chat on, as we'd become accustomed to doing, when he looked up and whistled to get my attention.

“Hey! Would you mind if I shaved your armpits?”

“What the hell are you studying?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically, “No, it's for something else. If you do mind, it's fine, I won't do it. But it'd help.”

“I...I've literally never considered shaving my armpits, so I can't really answer. Especially as I have no idea what you have planned.”

“You trust me though, right?”

“Well, I...”

“ _You_ ask _me_ to trust you,” he said, pointing to me and then to himself. “And I totally do! So I want you to trust me too.”

I could tell he was starting to get irritated, so I decided to pick my battles and agree to shut him up. “Okay, Yuuji. Of course I trust you. You may shave my armpits when you next visit.”

“Thanks, love.” And his head went back down over his books, tongue stuck out from the corner in concentration.

Two days later, this time watching our Saturday night film, he asked something else. At the time, I didn't even put the two things together, but in hindsight, I really should have.

“Do you still have that wheelchair with the back that's too low?”

The hospital had loaned me a chair with a very low back on it, which was very kind, but I kept falling over as there was nothing for me to lean against and nothing to strap me to. “Urm...yes? I think so, somewhere. Why?”

“Just curious.”

When he asked if I had any allergies the following week, the day before he was due to visit, I lost patience.

“No, I don't, but I'm starting to get worried as to why you're asking. What are you planning?”

“I promise you it's a nice thing! But don't ruin the surprise, please? I've worked really hard.”

“Yuuji, you're freaking me out.”

“Everything will be clear tomorrow! I promise it's a nice surprise. Trust me.”

And of course, I had to agree, because I'd said I trusted him. Even if that trust was waning.

–

Turns out, I was right to be terrified, but also right to trust him. He arrived at my house on Friday evening, carrying the pannier off his bicycle, a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step. When I asked him why he was in such a good mood, he rolled his eyes and lay next to me on the bed.

“Exams are finally over, and I'm here with my love and a bag of dreams.”

“You're such a massive dork,” I said as he kissed me. “Seriously, tell me what's in that bag right now or I'm throwing you out.”

“First things first. I'm going to shave those armpits please.”

He was in such a good mood, I didn't even bother asking anything else, I just let him get on with it. There was a small pot of conditioner in his bag, as well as his usual razor, and he set to work on me almost immediately.

“If my parents walk in, though, I'm telling them to save me.”

“Oh, shush,” he said, running the blade softly over me. I could feel it tugging on the hairs, but he was gentle, and the conditioner made the razor glide more smoothly than I expected. It didn't take long until he seemed happy with what he'd achieved.

“Now. Shall I do both I wonder?” he said to himself, applying some of his deodorant to me. The smell of baby powder wafted into my nostrils, so I closed my eyes to enjoy it and didn't bother answering him. I had no idea why he was doing it anyway, so how would I know whether to do both?

He seemed to think it would be better if they matched, although it was harder to shave the pit of the arm I was lying on.

“Hmm. That's pulling too much. Can you stop?”

“'Course.” He stopped and frowned at where he'd been working. “Ah well. At least that one worked.” His deodorant smell filled my senses again, and I made myself spasm so I could nuzzle into him.

“Put it all away and hold me,” I whispered, adding for good measure, “Please?”

“How can I say no to that?” His arms snaked around me, and we forgot about whatever else was in that bag for the rest of the night. There were other, more pressing, things on my mind (and pressing against me.)

–

The next morning, I woke up to the feeling of something pressing into my arm, somewhere, I couldn't narrow it down further than near the top.

“Ah. You can feel that then,” Yuuji said, looking guilty with a hand in my armpit. “I wasn't sure.”

“When you shaved me there yesterday, I said it was hurting.” I snapped at him, closing my eyes. “Of course I can feel it.” 

“Sorry.” He stopped jabbing his finger into me, and snuggled next to me on the pillow with a sigh.

I tried to go back to sleep, but realised it was pointless. “Okay, I give in. What are you planning?”

“Weeeeeeeell, remember when we talked about me rubbing my dick in your thighs?”

“I have a vague memory of that,” I said, a sinking feeling about it also manifesting itself.

“Chika, my sweet, you're not the only one who can do research. I looked into it more. And I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” I groaned, putting all the pieces together, “You want to fuck my armpit.”

His huge grin was all the answer I needed.

–

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anything in the lube I was allergic to immediately, but Yuuji still insisted we did a patch test on my skin for a few hours. It's pretty hard not to laugh your ass off when your boyfriend is treating your armpit like he's about to dye the hair under it – except for the fact he'd shaved it off yesterday.

Speaking of which... “So why did you shave me yesterday and not today?”

“Apparently, the slight regrowth is real nice. Bit of friction, ya know?”

“But you still need lube?”

“Probably. Better to have it and not need than the other way 'round.” He clapped his hands together, before wiping them on his jeans, looking for the world like a primary school teacher getting rid of glue she'd been clearing up after a messy afternoon of making artwork. “Now we wait! If everything's okay, under there, then tonight when your parents are out, we do it.”

As he pushed me into the living room I smirked at him over my shoulder. “This is so romantic...”

“Yeah, yeah, it can't all be hearts and flowers! I'm tryin' my best, here,” he said as he threw himself on the sofa with a pout.

I immediately felt bad; he'd obviously gone to a lot of effort, and there's nothing more romantic than time and thought (and enthusiastic consent of course). “Sorry. You're right. Thank you for doing all this. It's definitely weird as shit, but it's no weirder than the rimming.”

“Keep your voice down! Your parents haven't gone out yet!”

“They wouldn't know what it was even if they heard!”

“They're not daft, of course they know what rimming is.” He stood up and stretched, his bad mood gone as quick as it came and settled me at the table with a kiss on the forehead. “I'll make some lunch.”

“Oh! The potato-eggy-cheesy thing please!”

“Okie doke.” He got out the ingredients and started grating everything, messily but with enthusiasm; of all the things he's learnt to cook, the omelette Simon taught him is the fattiest, dirtiest and most delicious, especially when he realised he could add leftovers to it. Chopped ham was excellent, but the baked beans, not so much.

We spent the day together, an air of expectancy hanging around; it was odd not having revision or homework to do, almost like we'd forgotten something important, but the cats enjoyed us hanging around the living room, me watching him playing some RPG. One of the characters was so similar to him, with almost the same name, although he refused to admit it.

By the time the evening came, Yuuji was so enthusiastic it would have been impossible for it not to rub off on me. He made a shepherd's pie (with the pile of potatoes he over-peeled for the omelette) for us to eat first; we kept looking sideways at each other and giggling through the whole meal, like schoolboys playing truant.

“So,” he said, sitting next to me on the sofa and leaning on my leg, “I guess we should wait a bit?”

“Why?”

“Let the food go down.”

“Yuuji, we've been waiting all day, let's get on with it!”

“Now who's romantic?” He lay on the sofa, hanging off one end with his head in my lap, looking up at me. “You really want this though, don't you? I wasn't sure, but now you seem...excited.”

And of course I did. I wanted him. In whatever way he was offering himself to me, I wanted it. Not only would I be a fool not to accept it, but I really wanted whatever he was giving me.

Yes, it was weird and perhaps a bit perverted, but it was him reaching a climax because of me, and I  _ wanted  _ it. I really wanted him to fuck my armpit; there's seven words I never thought I'd say.

As I smiled down at him, he knew what I was thinking. I can't hide from him. He hooked an arm around my neck and pulled himself toward me, our lips meeting with a smack. He scrambled to his knees as we kissed, trying to reach me.

This was another time I hate being paralysed; I wanted to show him how much I wanted him without having to use words, but a nudge of my limp wrist behind his head just wasn't enough.

“Yuuji,” I breathed into him, “Take your shirt off.”

“Only if I can take yours off.”

I nodded and we were both topless within seconds, my arms being pulled upwards awkwardly to tug them out of my clothing.

His hands trailed down my chest, fingertips plucking at my nipples as they did.

“Take me to the shelf,” I panted. I didn't need to say it twice. He dragged me over, hopped onto the shelf so he was at my level, and pulled his clothing off, leaving him completely naked.

The flush on his skin glowed in the low light, sunset coming later in the summer. There aren't words enough to describe his smile as he pulled the chair towards him and wrapped his legs over me; a curious mix of confidence and desire and inevitability in one small tilt of his head and lift of his mouth at the corner.

I opened my mouth to accept him, no point denying it now, plunging my mouth over his erect cock, pushed onto it by his strong grip around the back of my head.

I needed to not take him to the edge yet; he wanted to do more than this, and I couldn't deny that to him. I tried to nibble gently at his balls, licking the head of his cock without ramming it into my mouth, but it was too enticing.

“If you want to do anything else,” I said, after taking my lips off him with a pop, “Let's do it. Now. You're ready and...well, I'm ready too.”

“You sure?” he said, cupping my face.

“Yes! Come on.”

He kissed me, and moved off the shelf, stumbling on wobbly legs. We'd chosen the wheelchair with the lower back, and I could see why as he started to position himself.

He stood behind me, a hand on each shoulder, pushing his erection against the back of my bicep. He chose the arm he'd shaved, moving his palms over my skin as he gently rocked against me.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the feeling of him. I couldn't really feel his dick on my arm, but I could feel the rhythmic motion of him against me, his fingertips running over my skin, and I moaned his name.

A click of a bottle top, the movement of my arm, a cold sensation somewhere I couldn't place.

I looked towards my armpit to see his hand curling under it, fingertips poking through the gap, rubbing the lube into the crevice there. I could feel it less than my mouth, but a lot more than lower parts of my body. His other arm stroked mine, his breathing became ragged.

Heady with arousal, I leant back into him, head lolling back and moving against him. He bent and kissed me, needy, sucking my tongue, then moving to my shoulder to bite along it.

“Do it,” I breathed out.

He hummed, and positioned himself, moving his cock to rest under my armpit.

“Can you squeeze?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I can only move my elbow up. You'll have to push it down.”

He did so, running a hand down it first, before pressing my bicep against my chest from the side, trapping his cock in the fissure he'd created.

He groaned as he was crushed, but then he was moving back and I saw the tip retreating into my flesh. It reappeared as he thrust forwards again, gripping my shoulder with one hand and clasping my arm with the other.

With each movement came a satisfied moan; the lube created a slick crack for him to push his cock into, clutching it between my muscle and the dappled hair growth under my arm.

I watched as his dick poked out, pulsing in the space he'd groomed for me the day before. His tip was deep red, almost purple; his breathing shallow, groans uncontrolled and his grip urgent.

The feel of his fingertips digging into me as he thrust was an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain. I felt desired and needed, and in no time we were panting in unison, moving together without thinking of anything else.

“I'm gonna cum,” Yuuji gasped, pulling out from behind me and coming around in front. He kissed me as he shot a glorious load all over my chest, half gasping, half giggling in the same way as he did over lunch.

“Oh, god, that felt amazing! Knew it would, but...fuck!”

I stretched out to him, but he was just out of my reach. “Yuuji,” I almost begged, until he eventually kissed me, the smile still tripping over his lips.

“I love you, Chika,” he said, collapsing back onto the shelf behind him and running a hand through his sweat dappled hair.

“Thank you, my love,” I said, settling back into my own chair. I might not have cum in the same way as him, but I still felt spent from the experience.

The day's worth of adrenaline – looking forward to what he had planned, finding out what it was and being pleasantly surprised, then waiting for it to occur – had built to this apex. We'd paused at the top before plummeting into the after effects, him exhausted and me satisfied with his expression.

–

It took a short while to coax him off the shelf and persuade him to get dressed. My parents coming home seemed to be the only threat he needed, as if them finding him flushed and naked and spent was too much to bear.

But I wouldn't have cared, right then, who saw him unravelled by me.

You can't tell me that feeling – the intoxicating certainty that he's never felt as good as I made him feel then _ –  _ that it isn't real. That it isn't sexual satisfaction, that it's somehow 'not as good' as if he'd stuck his dick anywhere else.

Because I refuse to accept that. It simply isn't true that our relationship is less because of these shortcomings you might see.

I might not clutch his hand back when he links his fingers in mine, but I know it's there.

We might not hug the same way as you when we kiss, soft nudges of wrist all I can muster to clutch him to me.

He might not fuck me in the way you expect, using junctions of flesh as well as my mouth.

But – you can't tell me this isn't making love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me - I re-read the armpit sex and made myself cry  
> Katie - What a sentence  
> Me - My life is leading up to posting that  
> Katie - It is one of your glory moments if I might say  
> Me - If I die will you talk about it at my funeral?  
> Katie - I would be honoured  
> Me - 'I only wanted the world to know it's not just about dicks in asses'  
> Katie - I'm crying omg  
> Me - I know it's very emotional, but don't be sad


End file.
